Master of Comus

He nodded and went out. Leonie sipped the tea gratefully, letting the refreshing flavour circulate around her mouth which was dry and filled with the dust of the hillside.

Moments later she was asleep, curled on her side like a child, one hand beneath her flushed cheek.

She woke with a start, feeling something touch her skin. Her eyes flew open. Paul stood beside her, an amused look on his face.

'You've slept like the dead. I've made our evening meal. Have a wash and come down to eat.' He indicated a tin bowl of steaming water standing on the little table beside her. 'I thought you might like some warm water, so I boiled the kettle for you.'

'You're very thoughtful,' she said. 'Thank you.' Glancing at her watch, she was astounded by the time. 'Goodness! I have slept well!'

'I shouldn't have taken you for such a long walk,' he said. 'You were exhausted, poor child.'

He went back downstairs. Leonie slid off the bed, stripped off her clothes and washed slowly and enjoyably, her skin delighting in the warm caress of the water.

Standing in her bra and panties, she hunted out a dress to wear, then a sound made her turn. Paul stood behind her, his eyes fixed on her. She flushed and instinctively pulled a dress down to cover herself with, bringing a faint smile to his mouth.

'I've seen you in a bikini, remember,' he said sardonically. 'You are no less unclothed now.'

'Would you please get out while I dress?'

'I came to ask you to hurry. The meat will spoil if we don't eat soon.'

'I won't be a moment.'

He nodded, turned, then halted and said over his shoulder, 'You have an enchanting body, Leonie.'

She flushed wordlessly. Then he was gone. Hastily she put on the dress, the only one Clyte had packed, a simple linen sleeveless dress she had made herself. The style suited her and she loved the gay lemon yellow colour, but she had had it for months and she wished she had something more exciting to wear tonight.

Paul had cooked kebabs over the charcoal range; skewers of rosemary-flavoured lamb served on a bed of salad with boiled rice. Leonie congratulated him on his cooking and he grinned. 'Glad you like it.'

There was the usual retsina with the meal. She was beginning to like the wine how. The unusual flavour was growing on her. After her third glass Paul hesitated, the bottle poised. 'Sure you want another? It's deceptively mild, you know.'

'I'm totally unaffected by it,' she said cheerfully, holding up her glass. She wanted to chase away the faint depression which was threatening her, and Paul's suggestion that she might find the wine too strong irritated her.

He shrugged and poured her another glass. Then he got up and produced a cassette player powered by batteries. A moment later dreamy music filtered through the room and Leonie sighed with pleasure.

'That's nice.'

Paul pulled her up out of the chair. 'Dance with me,' he murmured, his arms sliding round her.

They moved slowly round the dark little room. The glow of the candles and the faint red of the fire showed them where they were going, but Leonie found the heat and stuffiness of the room making her drowsy once mor

e. She sleepily let her head fall against Paul's broad shoulder, her arms locked round his neck. His thighs moved against her, his hands pressing her closer.

'This is nice, she murmured drowsily.

'Isn't it?' said Paul, his mouth against her hair, one hand slowly stroking her back.

'You dance very well,' she said.

He laughed softly. 'Do I? Your hair smells of sunshine and grass.'

'That's nice, she mumbled, her face pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the thin material of his shirt.

'Leonie, you're not falling asleep, are you?' he asked close to her ear, bending forward.

'No , certainly not, she said indignantly, her knees slowly bending beneath her.

Paul laughed as she slid downwards, and scooped her up into his arms, lifting her like a doll, her black head thrown back. 'My God, you're drunk! That wine was too much for you.'